Abe rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know what to make of this--they couldn’t argue with the fact that the papers were here, translated neatly. Someone had to have done it. His father insisted it was Ava.

"That’s what Marie said as well,” said Cece. “Remember?”

Ava did remember. The nurse thought Ava had left the bottles in Allie’s room to be rude. “So a future version of me is helping us?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

"It's a good sign, isn't it?” said Abe. “It means this--” he gestured to the papers on the bed, “--all this is working. That it works eventually. We fix it, and you use it to help us. To help yourself.”

Ava looked out the window. They didn't have much of a view, but the city was sparkling--somewhere out there the Eiffel Tower had lit up for the night. She couldn't help but remember with a twinge of pain the time she'd seen it glitter with Allie; they'd watched from the top of that enormous Ferris wheel. That was the night Allie disappeared.

“Well, it is good, I suppose,” she finally replied. “As long as Charlie’s telling the truth.”